


Retribution for the Damned

by BackStabber128



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Ambiguity, Drug Influence, Ending Headcanons, First Outlast fic, Flashbacks, Gore, Hallucinations, Malfuctioning Murkoff Machine, Multi, Murkoff Corporation, Out of Character, Psychological Horror, Swapping Perspective, implied rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-02-22 04:54:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13159704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BackStabber128/pseuds/BackStabber128
Summary: I feel that Val is very underrated in Outlast 2. Mainly because they're the only antagonist that is only "presumably dead."This is just a little mash-up of my ideas of what could have happened to Val after they dissapeared at the end of the game.Val is way too interesting of a character to not have an epilogue of their own.This was slightly inspired by Croik's "My Own Armegeddon" and moondanceandsunrise00's "Die  Bücher des Propheten" So check those out if you enjoyed.





	1. The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel that Val is very underrated in Outlast 2. Mainly because they're the only antagonist that is only "presumably dead."
> 
> This is just a little mash-up of my ideas of what could have happened to Val after they dissapeared at the end of the game.  
> Val is way too interesting of a character to not have an epilogue of their own.
> 
> This was slightly inspired by Croik's "My Own Armegeddon" and moondanceandsunrise00's "Die Bücher des Propheten" So check those out if you enjoyed.

 The world was aflame.  
  
  
Only the strips and spine of fried lumber and steel stood to resemble the remains that was once Temple Gate.  
  
It was just as beautiful as it could ever be. A thriving community, once faithful and true, was now shriveling to ash in Val's eyes.  
  
And now, as faithful and true as they could ever be, emerging from the ruins unscathed, and emptied of all emotions but eager and suspense.  
  
  
The satisfying stench of fresh ember welcomed Val to the scene that had once been visioned long ago.  
  
Sun blazing, bodies baking, soil cooked into dust. The apocalypse. The one time his god truly promised had finally come.  
  
And deserved it.  
Every burned body buried in the ash deserved to be, deserved the poison seeping from their veins and lips for forsaking the truth and trying to prevent the inevitable.  
  
Val briefly pondered if it was just a dream, too good to be true - but the setting was too real, the air so thick.  
It made his head swim.  
  
Val limped feebly past the dead bodies and familiar faces, too befuddled to sway her icy stare away from their life-less, yet peaceful faces.  
  
It was so close to victory, too far to fail now, and Val still had a purpose, why else would he still be alive and not dead like everyone else?  
  
It seemed that only Val was granted access to the sight of the new land .  
  
It was filled with a new broad and breath-taking light.  
Not from god, nor from heaven, but from hell, spewing over from under the Earth and Sun.  
  
It was far more beautiful than she could have ever imagined ...  
  
But something was wrong.  
   
Not only the absence of mother and father since the Rebirth, but the hunger in the air was less than it had ever been. And the air was cold despite the fire and most of all, there was a deafening silence filling it and hanging over like an everlasting mist.  
  
I should've been happy. Why wasn't I happy? This was all I wanted for so long and yet when this moment finally came I felt... _empty._  
  
Val gazed into the eyes of the corpses at his feet to find no emotion or life in them, most were shut as if they were trapped in a never-ending sleep.  
  
                           This.  
_This_  is what Knoth made them do for salvation.

The blind fool was bound to be somewhere among them. Dead. Dying choking on his own blood, I hoped.  
  
I wanted to laugh, they believed his gospels were true.  
... _And look at where that got them._  
   
 --What they strived to prevent was now only beginning; the child was nearing birth, the story was already over.  
And only Val remained ...  
  
That might've not been for long, she knew. For the lightning that struck the dust and the world was wracked with god's fury.  
  
It was a fitting death, among all the chaos, I smiled at the irony of it.  
  
All we went through and everything didn't matter. We would all just die burning in flames and drinking poison like tab-water, all while the father's child fucked the Earth in fire and hell,  
and for all eternity.  
  
A faint whisper cooed reassurance in Val's ear, it gave all the comfort he needed to release a short chuckle and feel the slightest bit of arousal pooling between his legs.  
  
Heat coarsing, mud dripping, melting off my face. It pooled at my feet like the blood from the cultists mouths.  
  
It was then I could remember the mother's cries and curses at us while I nursed her in my home ...  
  
" _You all_  -- _Are fucking lunatics_! "  
She had screamed, twisting grotesquely in her binds and spitting more foul english at me and my brethren.  
  
Anger consumed her voice, and echoed off the walls of my mansion. It reminded me of my own uncontrollable anger at Papa's lies.  
And it was music to my ears.  
  
I could still see the father's wide and blood-shot eyes, filled with shock and terror at the light of my torch and mud-coated body.  
  
The way he yelped and scampered away with that thing in hand-- the way he squirmed and fought when I pinned him down.  
  
" You're going ... to _love_ me , "  
I assured him dearly, caressing him and kissing him even though I knew he was trapped in a world of his own...  
I laughed as the mother screamed, I gave her husband more love and fulfillment than she ever could even _imagine_  ...              
   
I could still hear the yowls of my followers as they were beaten to death in the caves.  
  
They spoke in unintelligible whispers as they were carried into the hands of the True Father... where they would see their children again and be free of the nightmares of this waking world.  
  
... 

  
And I abandoned them.  
Their lives put to an end because of my pride and bombuster, saved myself and left the people I oathed to protect.  
  
A long wave of guilt washed over me and the voice faded into a low hum that seemed a thousand miles away ...  
  
I stood there. Momentarily missing my goal and instead, recalling the broken faces of those I watched writhe and die from the blades of Knoth's men.

  
I didn't know why I did. It was odd and it wasn't like me at all.  
  
The shivering of stone had reverberated through my dome. Though I knew it was a sign of wrong, I took no mind to it on my hunt for the father.  
  
Nothing could have disturbed me in the heat of that blissful moment, when I thirsted for Blake's blood.  
I wanted to bring him to the Father so he could taste his burning seed; add it to the disaster this armegeddon would bring.  
  
And it did. But none of the others the Father had promised it to were able to _watch_ it along with me.  
  
I hadn't felt it in so long.  
Was it a sign? A warning? Why else would the voice that fueled me so abandon me to feel doubt whilst in it's presence ?

It woefully reminded him of the false god's absent reassurance from before.

When his hands were caked with the blood of the children and she couldn't tell weither it was a sign of  _right or wrong._  
  
I urged the hum to grow louder, to drown me in and under it again, to feel the presence of another being that wasn't one of the cultists that lay dead and charred in the _dying_  fire  
  
But it refused and instead, died back into the incoherent silence it was mere moments ago.  
  
I wanted to chase it, to relive all the hell that was born on judgement day.  
To chase it like I was chasing the father again, to be filled with power and strength and to be able to revel in all the pain and suffering that was  _given to me._  
  
The whispers returned.  
Only this time, they were accompanied by an unrelenting ache inside my mind, setting fire to my thoughts and memories... growing louder like I desired, but also growing a voice of it's own... It overlapped, blended, tied together ...  
\--into the shaken and terribly familiar sound of something I hadn't heard in forever and never could expected to have heard again.  
  
" _Val?_ "  
I stopped.  
Everything stopped. All at once.  
  
I didn't want to know the voice but I already knew before I had even processed what was happening.  
  
The precariousness I felt deep in me convinced me that I didn't want to meet the gaze.  
But my body turned to face him despite it.  
  
And there he was. So gaunt, so pale, and so unforgettably young.  
  
A child. His youth so familiar yet so forgotten. His child-like face and softened features seemed to glow as if he was a spirit sent from god.  
  
I backed away from it, gaze unbelieving at what was returning after all this time.  
  
"What happened, Dad? What's _wrong_?"  
He spoke, voice ringing into my ears.  
  
But it was true.  
The nightmares had returned.  
The same nightmares that plagued me, kept me awake at night in the past.  
  
Only now, the laughter and arousal I felt from then were absent and replaced by the foul feeling of indignity.

  
This wasn't what it should have felt like. it was not desire, not love...  
it was something...  _unnatural._  
  
Then I remembered.  
The voice... the voice had protected us from it. Helped us escape our regrets by giving us it's unrelenting lust and love... But where is it? Where did it go.  
  
The boy's face distorted a moment, flickering from concern to horror, excitement to happiness.  
He came closer.  
  
"What do you want from me?"  
I asked it, voice unsteady and eyes studying it's unconvincing features.  
  
He didn't speak. He only stared, as if the mere action was all he was capable of. But that was all I did as well.  
  
I stared deep into the innocent eyes of the resurrected child, the rarity it was not to see bags or wrinkles surrounding them like on everyone else. I couldn't help but miss it.  
It took me back to when they were wild and bloodshot, a knife held to his throat. A knife I used to slit his throat.  
  
I dragged the blade across, remembering exactly what happened because of the scene playing over and over and _over_  in my mind.  
  
Blood spurted from his neck as he choked, struggling to breathe and cry.  
  
His whimpers echoed through my head, the blood on my hands and chest felt so real yet so similar and cold to the mud still running down my body.  
  
I watched as the boy fell to the floor, not dead but dying... still wrything on the pyre ...  
  
I looked into his then lifeless eyes, whose matched the many cultists' laying dead and charred.  
  
I felt ...unusual.  
  
No heat rose between my legs, not one slight chuckle at seeing my long dead child lay dead at my feet once again.  
  
But I felt something burn behind my eyes, building up in the sockets and forcing a choke out of my raw and aching throat.  
  
My face suddenly felt hot and wet, as if the arousal was transferred to my eyes instead of my sex.  
But it hurt, and it was uncontrollable.  
  
Tears stained my cheeks, washing off the last traces of sod like the blood dripping from Marcus' chin.  
  
Marcus, who never got to grow past the young age of six, waking me for breakfast every morning with that soft, rosey smile ...  
  
Marcus, who never grew to be the man I hoped he would be, be who he wanted to be..  
  
And neither did the forty others ...  
  
I blinked.  
And he was gone, not a trace of him in sight, not a word nor sign that he had even existed.  
For all I knew  _he never did._  
  
I knew now, that there was no blood. Not on my hands or chest, nothing. Nothing but mud, just as it was before.  
  
And silence. A dull, unprovoking silence that put me on edge and made my mouth dry and parch.  
  
Was this some kind of trick?  
Was I losing my mind?  
  
My tear-stinging eyes darted across the terrain to find just how _empty_  it was. There was no Knoth, no mother, no heretics, no cult, no life as far as the eye could see... Everyone was dead.  
  
It was so quiet now.  
Was the deathly silence god's way of tormenting me? Did he send Marcus down from heaven for me to see?  
  
I didn't hear an answer.  
  
  
  
The sky shrieked in agony as another bolt of lightning ripped clean through it's gullet, I was surprised no more blood spewed from it and the heavens.  
  
I needed to find the child.  
To not be distracted by god's games and do what mine told me; find the father and his child.  
His silence was a message.  
  
  
I trudged through the fiery ash and embers, eyes still searching the horizon for any sort of movement besides the sun enflaming the pale grey above and my own.  
  
The satisfying stench of smoke filled the air, reminding me of the children I loved dead, ignited in flame, it was the only thing I could clearly remember from the penitentiary.  
  
Lightning flashed again, near the church, indicating where the mother and father were destined to be.  
The Chapel.  
  
I could feel it in the air, the sky settled, cold wind even colder....  
the child had been born.  
  
I looked again at the horizon, sighting the sun popping and flaring, threatening to burst.  
I needed to hurry before it was too late.  
  
I staggered across the courtyard, limbs panging in misery in all I put my body through in order to be here, at this moment.  
  
And I was so close, so close to victory. All I needed to do was find the father, take his child. Find the father, take the child. Find the father, take the child.  
..... my child.  
  
I could have sworn to have seen his silluette in the clearing fog. Blake.  
The mother-fucker. . .  
The father of the true christ.  
The christ we deserved.  
  
I ran at him, like I did in my home. Remembered striking his ribs with my shard of bone, remembered the sludge-like water wallowing with our motions.  
  
The way he cried out and gasped for air when I yanked him out of it. The way he splashed away as I pursued.  
  
How he managed to escape and steal away the mother, watch her birth and death despite all of the heretics I sent after him.  
He was the last human to breathe besides me, he was special.  
And I had underestimated him.  
  
There was one thing I could predict from him. One thing I knew from deep inside my heart. He would strive to protect his young, be determined to raise her as his own.  
  
But he was weak.  
  
He couldn't fight regardless of his age or strength, he may have been an outsider, but he was no divine.  
  
The only gifts he had been given were of his wits and burning seed.  
  
Val tore a sword-like branch out of his crown and extended it out to the figure before him.  
  
Val knew what a father was.  
Knoth didn't deserve the title.  
He took advantage of his children and of his god, he took advantage of Val and his faith.  
  
Twisted it, mutilated it in his corrupt hands, his gospel, his beliefs.  
  
With Blake's child, Val could be given another chance, a chance to be a father again so he could put all of his unjustified actions behind him.  
  
He would help him make this right.  


  
The light grew beyond comprehension, filling Val's vision, Val's mind, Val's very being.  
It forced the branch out of his hands and forced him to fall to his knees.  
  
Was it his god? Was it Knoth's?  
Yaweh or Ezekiel?  
Val didn't know, but he knew it was real and it drowned out all other senses he had and forgot he was capable of.  
  
...  
  
Somehow, it made her remember what she had told Blake down in the mines, while he was trapped in a world of his own...  
  
"Papa always liked me best."  
She had said.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Papa always liked me best.


	2. The Father

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, this chapter has some spoilers to Red Barrel's comic "The Murkoff Account," So if you haven't read it yet, I suggest you read it now to get an idea of what's going on here and at the end of the game.
> 
> This is again, just a mash-up of my ideas of what could've happened after Outlast 2. Mainly headcanons and stuff, so I hope you enjoy.

Thwapping sounds and orgasmic moans danced throughout the tunnels, like an echo; a voice of reason and ultimate power. It was beautiful. No one other than her could truely understand that..

"I have ... so much ... _p_ _leasure_ to share with you ..." Even her own voice faltered at those very words. So powerful, so beautiful, so faithful, so much ...

I heard the mother's binds snap and crack wearily from above. She groaned deep and wrythed wildly. She was going to escape. Every sound I heard convinced me of that. But I knew it didn't matter. There was no more prevention, even she knew she couldn't stop it. For we all knew it was over. That we had won.

She let go, shaking in climax. Kneeling on the cold, slick, and muddied floor, staring at her trembling hands. Ignoring all else. His eyes wouldn't move, stuck on the veins that had grown in his hands and ran up his arms. They were obscured with red. Caked with blood.

They were stuck in a trance.. As if someone had splashed the dust in her face again and she somehow breathed it in. But it was far more than that drunken sensation.

Deep in his tingling ears, he could hear the voice calling for him... And she could've sworn she heard the cries of the children again.

It came from behind the walls. It tore through the wood and rock like ripping paper, and into her ears... promising her salvation. A retribution. An offer that was not fully described. But understood.

And she followed them, or rather, chased them. Back to the entrance, past the muck, across the bloodied wooden beams, and back into the clearing to greet the rays of the rising sun. But she, too, was met with something she couldn't have expected. A being he long dreaded since the night that used to haunt him from behind his eyes ...

**Silence.**

...

Blake's eyes snapped open.

From what he could see from his cracked and clouded glasses, was a pale and dark room. It was dimly lit with two or three columned lights that dangled loosly on the ceiling. It was cold and eerie, and he could hear distant noise further away that he could barely describe. It sent shivers down his spine.

His eyes darted frantically around him, he could hear the world beyond the walls of the prison catching flame. Burning. It was filled with the agony he had birthed. The end he birthed without even knowing.

He could _feel_ it in the wailing fire surrounding him.

And it didn't make any sense.

He could only hear the faintest squeaks of Jessica's innocent voice ring in his ears. He felt alone.  
He saw the grown ups above him, behind the glass. They continued to give him no company, maybe sometimes they came forward and put some chalky-tasting pills on his tongue or pricked needles at his skin,

But now they were just babbling on and on about things he just  
couldn't understand.

"Is he still out of it?"

"Yep, he's completely lost it. The drugs didn't help. He's out of his comatose but still rambling on about his wife some girl called 'Jessica.'"

Jessica.  
He remembered.  
Jessica.

Where was she.

He whispered to her, whispering to her instead of her to him. Asking her where she was. But still, she gave no response. He grew silent again, and a dull ache rose in the pit of his stomach.

"Christ, imagine how fucked up the others will be if they're still breathin'."

"Yeah, exactly. I bet this guy's seen a lot more shit than he bargained for."

None of it was explained to him. He was like a rat in a maze, with no knowledge of what was outside that maze.  
And all he could do was listen to the words and _try_ to understand.

"What about that footage you found in the wreckage? "

"Oh yeah. That's filled with notes and videos and junk, just more evidence of those hillbilly cultists. Alot of fucked up shit you'd rather not even imagine ...it almost makes me feel sorry for them."

"... Do you still have it?"

Blake heard them rustling through their shirts and cladded armor for a few moments  
before he looked up and saw one  
lifting his _child_ in  
his fingertips. ..

He choked out her name and scrambled to his feet. His bloody hands slammed against the glass that seperated them.

"Oh Jesus-" One snapped, almost dropping her in shock. He fell back.

"Let her go!" Blake cried, eyes glued to her.  
"Give her back and let us go!"

The other man started laughing, and Blake couldn't tell why. It was a deep, husky chuckle that reminded him of .

His friend spewed a hiss of bad words before fixing it's composure and holding her back up.

"Do you know this is yours, Blake?"  
It asked.

Blake nodded ecstatically, his hands were empty and she knew she needed him, she was his only ...but the man only replied by shaking his head and turning back to his companion.

"This is all just proof of the cult members trippin' balls. Gods, sex, gore... you name it. I studied some, and it seems there was some kind of conflict going on."

"There were videos of corpses and these weird gremlin-things that were covered in this mud or shit or something... I told the guys in the town to investigate and they said there were other areas nearby that can be part of another village."

"Jesus, I hope not."

"I know, right? There's probably another hell-hole waiting for us there."

...  
He spun to face back to the father, who returned his gaze, yet again.  
"Do you think we should ask him some more questions?" He suggested.

"Yeah, I guess we could try. I just hope it won't be more of that religous nonsense ..."

...  
The door beside the glass automatically slid open with a puff of green smoke.

The two soldiers came in.

"Hey pal." One greeted with a sneer behind his mask. He squatted down, a good meter or two away. The father replied by fondling with his fingers, absentmindly.

"So, what do you remember from your and Lynn's 'vacation' last night?" He began,

A series of memories evaded Blake's mind at the name. He remembered calling for her without even knowing if she was alive. She remembered watching her get strangled by that person ...without being able to do anything but cuss at them and scream.  
"Lynn" He spoke out of impulse.

"Do you know what happened to her, Blake?" The man insisted, looking deeper into his eyes.  
The father stared into the floor. Between them. As if something that wasn't there could give an answer.

The soldier gave a jerk and yanked the child out of his coat pocket. And held her out towards him.

"Explain this,"

Blake's eyes grew wickedly, and he instantly went to grab her.

"Who and What did you see there, Blake?"

The more he tried to come up with an answer, the more his mind went blank, and the more and more the man sounded like the teacher from his sch...

"They killed her. He killed her, but I didn't do it. I didn't do it."  
He reasoned. He repeated. "And now she's alive. She's given another chance ..."

The teacher slapped himself in frustration. "Lynn- not Jessica." He felt him take him by the shoulders, "What happened to her?"

He couldn't reply.

Loutermilch sighed and started flicking at the girl impatiently. Blake flinched each time.

"Look-- Who is Sullivan? Who is Ruth?  
Who are the cultists you and your wife encountered!?"

No reply. Another sigh. Another swipe.  
"John, Paul, Laird, Knoth, Val---"

"---It made the end. It took me in while she watched,"  
"-What?"  
"It told me I could make it right, but did I? She told me to watch, she told me that it was what we deserved ... But what did he mean?  
Do you know, Jess?"

That didn't sound like Jessica.

The soldier twisted his body back to his friend, the latter now watching immensely, eyes stuck on Blake. Eyes stuck on the father.

"I think you're onto something." He said, voice returning wise and deep. As it should be.  
They both shared their gazes on the camera footage, greatly allured by Blake's newfound knowledge, which they once thought was nothing but nonsense. But it was more.

He had known more than they had thought.

"Which name did he react to?" One asked as the other skimmed through the articles.

"The name of whoever the hell wrote this."

"God, ... there is a split faction, isn't there?"

"It sure fucking looks like it."

"Shit, I gotta tell the guys about this." The man peered back over at Blake, who only stared back wordlessly. Breathing haggard-like. "See if you can get anything else out of him."

Without a slight hesitation, the commander returned to the crazed cameraman. The latter could only watch.  
"Were there more?" He asked.

"... they... they told me it was what they deserved. The end they deserved. The world to burn in flames, to die _screaming,_ to be embraced by something they could only hear, not see ..."

His trembling arms stopped cradling air and fell lax at his sides for the first time in hours.  
"They told me it was love ...Is that what love is? Does love make any of this right ... Or is any of it even real ... jessica ... . JESSICA." He screamed at the top of his lungs, desperate for her to hear. Desperate for anyone to ...

He felt his body go lax and he started shaking,  
Tears spouted from his eyes  
and pleas slipped from his lips. Like butter. Hot and, slick.

He watched the grown ups jump up and panic, grabbing at things in their pockets and belts, jamming the buttons on their radios and phones. Stammering words into the speakers. He remembered rocking back and forth.  
emptied of reality,  
Back and forth. Back and forth.

"What the fuck is wrong with him?" one shouted. He sounded like he was underwater.

Water blotched at his blurred vision, it flooded the back of his mind and he was afraid he might drown in it. The same water from the lake and the river. The same water filled with those dead heretics and burnt bodies.

He wasn't sure if it was real, ...but he wasn't sure if anything could even be ...

If anything, it could all just be a bad dream. ..  
Everything he heard from the words of insanity and the pain and death, to the people who said them and believed they were true. Were all just figments of his imagination ...

"He's having another seizure, send medics to room 432, ASAP."  
"Send them quick. Trust me, we don't want to lose him anytime soon. He saw the cult. He knows more than we thought,"

He choked on foam that wasn't supposed to be in his throat. His fingers shook, caked with grime, mud, and god-knows what else.

He was wracked with visions of the cult blending with the reassuring smiles of Jessica.  
Bleeding sky, screeching, voices chanting in chorus, flies buzzing and his own voice singing the song he didn't want to sing,

"Oh be careful little eyes what you see,  
Oh be careful little eyes what you see ..."

Lynn's hand squeezing his, words only someone truely insane would write.  
Knoth's knife sliding across her own neck. Her chanting, her ungodly words ringing into his ears like a doorbell,

"There's a father up above and he's  
looking down in love,"

He saw a girl, ragged and dead, in a cot at a hospital. She seemed so peaceful, yet so not.  
Blood was smeared from her mouth and eye, tangled with her long blonde locks he could have sworn were short.

She was like Jess, She was like _him,_  
"So be careful little eyes what you see ..." He gargled.

He saw a glimpse of Knoth piercing her eye out, some kind of demon goat creature with wheels and wheels and wheels... He saw a transparent, intersecting-intercourse of shapes. It looked like it could've made up some kind of monster ...And it sent things ringing off in his head. It faded.

And then he saw fingers vice-gripped around the end of a blood-encrusted knife.  
Somehow, he recognized it.

The pure heart-aching agony she felt because of what she'd done. But he never felt that again. Because that soul-wretching regret was replaced by sheer, unrelenting lust. It filled him like seed did a woman.  
For, at least, that was what he was told.

The one gave it to her, the one who whispered in her ears. Into _his_ ears. And the anger and sorrow dissapeared ...

He peered up and into the small red lights that lit the ceiling above.  
He wondered how someone so wrong could be so right.

He watched them flicker on and off. On and off. Like flashlights. Like the visions, the whispers.

He felt that he would never understand,


	3. Catamite to the Devil

...

The ruins the CEO told them to investigate was nothing short of a claustrophobic nightmare. It seemed almost identical to an abyss; it was cold, black, and stripped of all kinds of life they could think of.

The only beacons that lit their path were the flashlights that stuck to their trembling hands, the only sounds they could hear were the drips of water and a distant crackle of flames nearby.

They were now searching in the direct center of the hell-hole. Having to use powerful machinery to drill through the rocks that avalanched during the "storm" the radio tower caused during it's malfunction.

That damned ghost-fucker had given them enough problems, and now here they were - stuck cleaning out the remnants of even more mental patients because of it. ...Which were now surely completely out of their minds after the final blast of the signal came over from a day before.

But of course, they couldn't know for sure until they saw for themselves.

The group continued to find more than the CEO was letting on about the place, often finding skulls of humans or animals decorating the walls, blood smeared around every corner, some even spelling out sick phrases like, "Love set us free," and all other kinds of satanic shit.

It was all just a reminder of the halls of Mount Massive. It was all the same thing, just disguised to fit some other fucked-up religion with even more freaks. It was all hell in itself.

But despite the suicidal mission, the workers knew they would get paid _big_ money for it if they made it out alive. A sweet and longed craving for their fingers to be curling around the handle of a million-dollar suitcase. That was the only reason they kept pushing past the darkness and shimmering their lights down every crevice and stairway.

They knew they would find the bodies eventually, either dead or alive, it would no doubt give them a bonus in their pay check. The only downside was was that they had no idea where the hell they were or where anything was, let alone - the bodies of hundreds or more looney-tunes that were insane enough to call that place "home."

"Make sure to keep the survivors alive," The boss had told them back in the truck, "We need to study as much of the radio tower's effects as possible. Burn the dead ones though, unless they have any noticable deformities, we don't need to leave any more evidence of what happened here."

It had been hours since she told them that, and they still hadn't found a body. The rocks were shallow through the caves and there was plenty of alternate paths and short cuts passed where they had been. The damned things could be anywhere.

It was said the cameraman was the one who saw the things that could be lurking in these mines. But God knows a madman can only tell the truth of so many things ...

"Fuck... I think I found one," One of them eventually stammered after hours of walking, pointing to a vague silluette lying in the midst of a torch light. It was then the team had finally grown silent, mainly because they actually had no idea of what kind of thing they could meet down there. The multiple satanic ornaments strung around the walls sure didn't ease their paranoia.

As soon as they peered over to see what the heavily-shaded corpse looked like, they not only saw that it's body was obscured in a strange clay-like muck like the CEO described, but somehow, too, it was alive. The slight rise and fall of it's muddied chest was enough to tell them that.

"Jesus..." One hissed, noticing the person was nude, but the obscenities of both it's chest and crotch were caked with the finest traces of mud. As if it was hiding it's true form... or maybe that was it's true form? They couldn't tell.

One of them scoffed and poked it with a stick, "I've seen worse." He stated, taking a moment to inspect it's hazy features through the dark. "This one sure has issues though,"

After a long moment of suspenseful silence, another worker peeked over at it as well, "Is that a dude or a chick?" He questioned. All three's glances all fell on the person a minute until another went up to examine. He squinted.

"I think he's probably a man... The way his jaw is shaped and that stature ..." The other peeked over his shoulder, "Are you kidding? What kind of man looks that feminine?" "What kind of woman looks that masculine?"

"-Fucking hell, guys- It doesn't matter." Their leader snapped, whipping out a radio and dialing another team, "We've found a survivor in area B, calling 421 - we're sending 'im to the truck for you to pick up and bring back to the Murkoff facility, over." He stuffed it back into his belt.

"Based on what we've seen so far, it could be anything..." He muttered under his breath.

"You, Jean," The captain announced, turning to the man he addressed and tossing him a gun loaded with an anesthetic. "Dart it, bind it, and lock it in the truck. I bet we'll find more in this area." With that, the two slowly turned away to begin searching the rest of the room, flashlights sparking against the walls.

The man named 'Jean' sighed dryly and looked back down at the unconscious being... he was struck back when saw it now awake, piercing deeply into him with cold, icy blue eyes. It took advantage of his shock, lurching upwards and twisting it's fingers around his windpipe.

He struggled, using all his might to pry them off with his own, knowing full well the strength of the person would break his neck if it applied enough force. He choked out a garbled "Stop," before the clamped hands squeezed even harder.

It reminded him of the variants with their inhuman strength and twisted minds. He jerked and screeched towards his team, but more pressure on his vocal chords muted his strangled scream.

"Are you one of them...?" The being asked him, with a dazed voice just as androgynous as his features. "Tell me why the flames stopped burning..." He urged, strangling the worker in his desperate grasp. "Tell me where the child is," The officer fought him, fumbling with his hands, growls collecting in his throat but never being able to escape.

He peered down at the unrelenting person, seeing it's eyes full of determination, strings of blond hair dangling in his face. "Tell me where the child is," He repeated.

At last, Jean choked out a yell loud enough that his partners could hear, and he heard the sound of a gun click in the direction they stood. Instead of the thunderous bang the device would have sent off if it was loaded with bullets, it instead gave a small pop and the person beneath him flinched in surprise.

He glanced down to see a needle embedded in his bicep, yet still, it refused to let go of his neck. It squeezed. It squeezed so tight the worker could've sworn his neck already snapped and he was already dead. Dead but his heart was still pumping, racing, fighting to stay alive.

But he felt himself brought back to life once the grip began to fade... dull, and weaken. Jean peeked his eyes open to see those desperate blue eyes still clinging to him. It's heavy breaths began to slow.

He watched as the consciousness slowly ebbed out of him, those eyes slowly losing their focus before he finally sunk back to the floor. "you must know... as surely as I breathe...," Was all the worker could make out of it as the rest of it's words slurred into inaudible whispers. It fell silent.

"See?" The commander began, "These fuckers are unpredictable - completely fucking bonkers. Don't let their looks fool you if we find another one alive." Jean crumbled away from the creature, coughing and sputtering, as if trying to rid bile from his lungs. His eyes couldn't leave the thing's limp form, fearing that it could hop back up and kill him if he looked away.

But it didn't. And his team turned away again, leaving him to recover alone as he watched the slow rise, and fall of it's chest. He could only stare, dazed with suspense. Until he managed to stand to his feet again,

,,,,,,,

By the time he made it back to the truck, after carrying the lunatic a solid 15 minutes, sod had completely caked his entire chest and lap. He hissed a curse at his ruined uniform but fought his disgust long enough to cram the crazed fuck in the back. He gagged at the sight.

The team who'd pick it up later were gonna have hell if it woke up before they got to the lab. Jean guessed it's strength was a side effect of the tower, just like the variants, the crazy motherfuckers. Then again, everything anyone did nearby were caused by them. At least, while they were active just a few days ago.

He slammed the car door shut. Sparing one more glance at the survivor through the glass before turning back to the flurry of darkness and returning to his team.

It was disgusting. The entire town was disgusting. A place home to filth and drout that would no doubt drive anyone insane just by living there a day. The shit he had to put up with in his job were unbearable.

He just hoped this wouldn't lead to a gateway for more.

...

The officer climbed in the front seat, jamming the key into the slot and snapping it sideways with a click. His large, leather-wrapped hands stuffed a blunt between his lips, it was barely lit and tasted like sandpaper to his tongue. But he didn't spit it out. It was his only stress reliver for the dark abyss outside. He could glance down to to see how much it's dull embers clashed with the darkness.

His boot floored one of the pedals on the floor, resulting in a loud rumbling of the crusty engine inside. He snickered. "C'mon men!" He called in a gruff voice to the few still in the back, now cleaning off the thing behind the seat with a rag.

"Damnit, you know the dipshits in the facility will have our asses if we bring this one back looking like...like this!" One spat as he wiped the gunk off. "Christ, it doesn't even look half bad without all this shit, unlike all those townsfolk." He laughed, "Hey Mike, look at this!"

The other sighed sourly from across the seat and peeked over at the thing, seeing that it was completely cleaned off... with warm tan skin and soft blonde hair neatly parted back behind her ears... His eyes trailed downwards from the soft and delicate features to below, revealing it's nude body with obscenities that didn't match the above. "For fucks sake." He cussed, snapping his head away.

"...Would you bed it?" His friend sneered, looking up to face the disgusted soldier. Hearing no response, he just laughed some more before slamming the back door of the truck. "Don't judge a book by it's cover, Mike. That shit must be caused by side effects of those microwaves or... somethin'."

He hopped in the front seat, leaning back on the thick leather and propping his feet up on the dash. "Murkoff's problem. The dumbasses just love to fuck e'm all up but never think about needing to study e'm for later."

The driver scoffed at the remark before thumping his foot on the accelerator again. The other two shuddered by the engine's occasional pop and quiver as it hummed back to life.

"Just an "experiment" was all they called this place, all an experiment is, is to demonstrate a known fact - That being what they already know." He informed with a scratch of his stubble.

"But God knows. Everything bad that could happen, happened in this place." He pointed to the victim behind him with a finger, "Let's just say, I wouldn't want to meet this one when it wakes up."

He floored the accelerator once more and drove away.

,,,,,,

Val's eyes snapped open.

They were met with black, paired with the cold chill of night. His ears could hear the crows and owls cooing in the trees and the soothing whistle of wind still howled along with it. It was calm. And he lay there, letting his eyes rest on the ceiling to savor the moment.

The days have drug on long for the past few months, with children multiplying every each - It was just as tiring as it was sorrowsome. For he got to see their own parents walk sluggishly down the road, moaning in pain, covered in awful sores and bleeding blisters in every pore. He could only hope they hadn't seen them like that.

Papa had said to meet him at the Chapel, early enough so the sun didn't rise. He needed to tell him, somehow. He knew he would understand. He always did.

 

By the time Val dragged himself from the bed, the sun had already peaked up at the horizon, past the high mountains. A sight so beautiful to be gifted from God.

He took a long sip from the bitter coffee he held in hand. Tired thoughts trailing to his own idle curiosities of what lay beyond. The small town was filled with rumors from quiet lips, for no one his age had even _seen_ the ground beyond those borders.

Curiousity was not a sin, but they were encouraged to live as a union in the way of the Bible... despite the many sinks and tractors owned in the households and farms. Not that they owned much to begin with, it was hard enough to live as they were. Which was why some found the "outside world" so appealing.

But really, it was all just childish curiousity. What truely mattered was the purpose of this village, it was a sign that God was always with them. Always willing to help and guide them. Even when they didn't have all the outside had. And that was the truth.

It took him long, too, before he realized his true purpose and devotion. He encountered plenty of hardships in his life that he still couldn't understand and couldn't get answers to. And Papa only said that God answers some things and lets you find out the others. He was right... and it encouraged him to stop questioning why he never

He felt gentle fingers pull at his robes, and he looked down to see. "Val!" A familiar voice chirped, "Why are you up so early!" He smiled softly at the child's unkempt appearance.

It was Marcus, his soft, light brown hair was wild from sleep, but his eyes were wide and awake as ever. He was still determined to disrupt the deacon's morning routine no matter how low the sun hung in the sky.

Val sighed in defeat, knowing full well the boy would have found out sooner or later. "Papa has held another meeting I must attend, child." He spoke. "What? Really!?" The orphan piped, "You know what Nicolas and Robert will do if they find out you're gone!"

"Shhh," The deacon swathed, brushing the boy's tangled hair out of his face, "You know how Papa is about his gatherings and motivations..." He trailed, "I'll be back soon, you'll be in charge until I do, alright?" He winked as his lips grew with another smile.

Marcus still frowned in disappointment, but nodded quietly. "Good," said Val, setting his empty coffee glass in the sink, "And make sure to stay out of trouble!" He called before sliding out the door.

,,,,,,

He was devoted to taking care of the children, he knew they needed him. He was afraid that if he passed, none of them would be cared for, or loved. And he couldn't stand the thought of them suffering without his comfort to guide them. Not anymore than they already have ...

 

The rugged, rural, country town that greeted him when he stepped off the porch was nothing special. A farm town littered with trowels, buckets, horses and farms. Many townsfolk were nearing their 40s or 50s, their faces worn with wrinkles and frown lines as they worked their backs in the fields.

Grime and sweat always wormed their way up on them, splotching their overalls and wrinkled foreheads. Sometimes, they stared as he passed. It didn't surprise him, but the odd silence that followed afterwards unsettled him to no end. It was strange ...but so had been the past few weeks with more signals from above, Knoth had claimed.

Flashes of white occurred continuously throughout the nights, it's meaning unknown. The children said that it gave them ominous and dreadful feelings, often hearing a loud noise occompanied by strange anxieties or memories. But no one in the town could place why.

It could only be God trying to speak with them. He had already made his presence clear to Knoth and countless others throughout the years. Now that the lights appeared stronger and more frequent, it could only mean that he was trying to tell or warn of something near. But he would only tell when the time was right.

 

It was pitch black besides the flare of the rising sun in the distance. He was almost to the Chapel, and he could already hear Papa Knoth from inside. The fated prophet-of-Ezekiel hadn't been aging well over the years. His weight was well over 250 pounds and his hair had began to recede and grey. Although, he remarkably looked 20 or 30 years younger than he really was.

Val heard some in the Tavern say how the two held no resemblance towards one another. Almost polar opposites, he heard some say. It was true,

The chief deacon pulled the Chapel doors open to greet the few who sat at the first bench nearby. "There you are," One called to him, he instantly recognized it as the voice of Laird. Val hadn't seen the disfigured man since he had stopped working as a church deacon two or three months prior.

Although, when Val saw him, he was taken back by how bizarre his skin appeared. There were florid sores blistered on his naked head and arms, though they were only hints of the virus, it appeared to only be beginning. The same appeared for his friend Nick, who sat next to him silently.

"...I see you haven't quite changed." Laird remarked, noticing Val staring, "It's nice to see someone lookin' considerably normal nowadays ..." He trailed.

"What happened to you?" Val began, concern lining his tone. The dwarf clicked his tongue in annoyance, expecting the question. "What do you think? We caught the plague escortin' them Scalled to their village. Even while we were told to be immune to e'm, the fucks still infected us."

"It's not real contagious yet but ...it's fuckin' pathetic. Now we have to live with the f-freaks who gave it ta' us!" The blond flinched as Laird's voice raised in anger. He sighed vaguely. "We're here cuz' Knoth said he'd give us an escort so we don't get killed tryin ta' get there ourselves." He admitted.

"Is this what this meeting is about?" Val questioned, keeping his distance. Laird scoffed, "Of course not. There's plenty of other shit wrong with this town. I'm not sure if Knoth's tryin'a get rid of it or start more."

The dwarf had always had a nasty attitude, but in this case, Val could understand why. And his thoughts were taken back to the memory of those parents stumbling on their feet to get to their new home ...

Nick started to grumble things under his breath as he stared down at the floorboards. Laird continued, "The only good thing 'bout this is all take charge over there, but that's it. We're both fucked."

"Laird," Called a familiar raspy voice from another room, "Don't forget that the Lord has a place for everyone in this world. Though you see those marks as a curse, I assure you; it's a gateway to a new service in life that God, himself, has granted to you..."

Knoth emerged from a doorway, hobbling on a bad leg and waddling because of the strange obesity he had gained over the years. "Your steed is here, and the world you own awaits." He concluded.

Laird sighed wearily and stood on his amputated legs. "Well, I guess this is goodbye for now, chief." He spoke indifferently, "C'mon ol' Nick." He told his partner, who proceeded to heft the dwarf on his shoulders. The giant eyed Val a moment, lips curling under his mask, as if he was trying to lull his moans into audible words again. Trying to tell him something ...but he couldn't get it out.

He grew coldly silent again, and stomped out the way Knoth had come in.

"Val!" Papa greeted, limping forward as soon as Nick's footsteps faded. "I hear you've been busy, with the children?" Val chuckled slightly, fixing his eyes on an altar sitting on top of one of the confession boothes. "Ah... yes, 26 of them all at once has been a challenge."

"...But I manage, most are deeply hurt from the loss of their parents... Of course, I try to help them as best as I can, but it's hard to comfort so many at once..." His eyes trailed to a lit chimney at the front of the room. He watched it flicker on and off. On and off,

"Don't worry, dear boy." Sullivan set a hand upon his shoulder, "God chose you for that purpose, a rare one indeed. The children need you like the Scalled does Laird... Don't let your doubts sway you from it..."

He watched Val's eyes roll from the fire to the place between his legs. He frowned. "Don't let flesh keep you from your purpose either." Papa lifted his chin up to meet him eye to eye. "You are special, God made it that way so you can take care of them..."

Val slowly blinked her icy blue eyes, but pulled away and shook his head. "It's not as much that as it is what the children tell me when I ask them why they cry, some have been harassed, abused, sick, worse - without even my knowledge!"

The deacon stopped short, combing his short blond hair back with his fingers, "It's just... upsetting."

Papa spared a forgiving smile and came forward again. "I know it's hard, child. I've been having plenty of ...problems myself." He paused, his husky blue eye rolling across the floorboards. "But that's just how God created it, a town full of hundreds of people _and_ their children doesn't sound easy to take care of either, does it?"

Val could only nod, still watching the fire instead of Knoth's wandering eye...

They both jerked when the doors of the Chapel busted open, with no one other than a tall, elderly-looking woman with long black hair left standing in the doorway. It was Marta. The lady.

Val couldn't help but notice Knoth's lone eye snapping to meet her's the instant she came in. "Marta?" He began, "What are you doing here?" She was as pale as a piece of paper once she stepped into the light. Strings of black obscured the look of horror on her face.

"I just..." Her gravelly voice paused as her dull grey eyes met the chief's. "...wanted to talk." Val noticed the scarlet-colored blood splattered on her black hand-made dress, he couldn't help but stare.

Her strange deformities had gotten worse over the years, her height hitting 7 feet in length and her skin always glowing a dull grey or white. Knoth had continued to see her in secret for reasons he hadn't yet confessed, but truth be told, the reasons weren't as simple as he pretended them to be.

Knoth's eye grew when he found the splotch of red Val had seen, and he guided him away.

"You should go back to the children." He told him, his usual melodic tone now dry, concealed under a quiet whisper. Val frowned and glanced back to Marta behind him, feeling tension. "Now? When we haven't nearly began?"

Papa sighed wearily and shook his head. "I promise, I will plan another, but there are just too many problems today..." He frowned and brushed a few strands of hair out of Val's face. Without another word, he took Marta by the hand and led her into a back room. He shut the door.

He heard their worried whispers from behind it, words of slaughter and sinful murders from her fragile hands. Papa told her that it was what God wanted. He told her it was what god wanted. They acted like Val never noticed.

They acted like no one ever noticed.

,,,,,

The sun had finally risen from among the horizon, a sight so beautiful to be shaded by the dull in his chest or the blank, rundown village that surrounded him. His eyes tracked the rocks below to sway himself from it.

The children would be waiting for him, afterall. It was best he hadn't stayed long. He knew better than to put himself above them. He knew they needed him, for he was their only...

Val felt something knick at his shoulder, he turned to face it. "Val," Someone he couldn't recognize said, face bright and welcoming. "I know you're busy with them kids, but, I was wonderin' if you wanted to join me and the fellas down at the tavern."

It was a woman in her mid 30s, he noticed, her dark hair was red and wild, and of what he could see, a few of her front teeth were missing. "For what?" He spoke, "Did you want paper? Or a piece of Papa's gospel?"

She chuckled a bit, as if she expected him to say that. "No, not all all. We just wanted to know what you've been up to all this time. Get to know ya a bit, it's been a while since we've seen ya through all that work," Val considered it a bit, but his thoughts only ended up back at the orphans waiting in his home. He sighed.

"You know I can't do that with the children... It's hard enough to leave the house as it is, I don't need to get a habit with them around ..." The woman chuckled at his seriousness, "Quit your worryin', pal, I'm not askin' you to stay all morning and get friggin' _hammered_ \- We just wanted to have a short chat while ya have the time."

She watched Val's eyes gaze down the road near his house, she scowled, "Seems you've been stuck with e'm, too. I can't say I don't understand why. Well... I did once, anyway." She paused. "Sucks how they take up all your time. To me, you don't seem as happy as you used to."

"I've been happier than I've ever been because of them." Val assured, "What's wrong has nothing to do with them, it's mostly just work and ...personal problems." The woman nodded and joined his eyes on the road.

"I understand, I do. And some strange things've been happening these past few months. Real strange. We've all been talkin' bout it here. I can't even tell if some are real or just made-up stories! I bet ya hate missin' out on all the good ol' nonsense of town, am I right?"

Val chuckled at the comment, the sweet old memories of it blurring the worries of his mind. "Yes - I do miss it sometimes, I'll admit." He said, looking down the road at the worn-down shack he spoke of.

"Well, you comin' or not?" She spoke teasingly, strolling closer to her destination. Val peered down the street once more, smiling a bit before fading, remembering something he hadn't remembered since he'd been there before. The endless chatter, drunken slurs, and gossips about who's husband, wife or father did what.

Cheers rolled from their tongues with an occasional clank-of-a-mug echoing in the distance. All of which filled with a murky brown fluid that tasted more like salt than fruit.

And after time, he heard a faded, drowned out voice in the back of his head through the drunkenness, muttering things he couldn't piece together. It was blurred and garbled like a child speaking with their mouth full.

He felt like it was trying to speak to him. Tell him something he needed to know. It made him forget until nightfall, when he lay back in bed. He pondered about it for hours on end. Asked God if he was trying to speak to him like he did Knoth.

But he never got an answer.

...

 

The officer chewed absently at the blunt between his lips, snapping dark shades over his eyes in concentration. He kept his eyes fixed on the road in front of him, or more specifically, an empty desert that dragged on for miles and miles and miles ...

The bright Arizona sun blared in the dim orange sky, burning into his vision and serving a great reminder of the footage he found on Blake's camcorder. The apocalypse, he called it. The end of days.

His eyes rolled to the mirror above the dash, seeing the thing in the backseat loll back and forth with the rhythm of the truck. It was odd, he thought. It had been hours since the others had found it back in the mines, yet it was still the only survivor.

They said they had found it in close to the edge of the site, near a cave that led to another entrance to Temple Gate. The dead ones just happened to be found there too, but only deeper. Most were caved in with boulders and butchered with the knives of others.

The ones in town were all suicides. It couldn't have been more obvious with those cyanide peroxide bottles littered everywhere. There were some objections though, including one crucially deformed woman with a church cross impaled into her torso. _...That_ was something he hadn't seen in awhile.

It didn't matter now, most of the subjects were dead if not dying from the shit the radio tower caused them to believe... He was one of the few who got to witness the horrors on video. Sickening, really. But sacrifices needed to be made in order for Murkoff to continue it's work.

And by inspection, the visions had indeed foreshadowed the occurance of Blake and his wife by pure coincidence, much to their surprise. He couldn't wait to start studying it with the others. It was amazing how much a simple wave frequency could drive a whole town of hillbillies completely out of their minds, and all they had to do was sit there let them pretend it was all God ...

The officer looked again at the survivor through the mirror, admiring it's strange beauty and well groomed features. Despite the condition they found it in at first, it actually ended up being more appealing than his own wife! He chuckled quietly to himself.

He caught a glimpse of something shimmering around it's neckline, it was caked with mud, but a hint of black beads gave away what it was. A necklace. A crucifix.

A crucifix wrapped so tightly around the thing's neck it might as well had been trying to strangle itself with it. He scowled, thinking it must've been the effects of the final blast, but God knows.

The man scratched his stubble with a leather-wrapped hand, smiling when he spotted the silluette of a tower looming behind a set of lifeless hills. He hoped Murkoff would figure it out. He knew they would. They always did.

And now was the best time as ever to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a longer time to post because I wanted this chapter to be just a "little bit longer" than the rest. Plus, I'm making this up as I go along, hence why this takes me ages to update.  
> So I hope those of you who are interested can stay till the end cause I'm determined to find out how this ends myself!
> 
> Don't hesitate to follow or review!
> 
> \--Quick fun fact: The way blond/blonde is spelled depends on weither the person described is male or female, ironic right?
> 
> \--And to those of you missing out on all the glorious freecam shots of Val on tumblr: http://saddening-bore.tumblr.com/tagged/val


	4. Love Cannot be Tamed

They were calling for her.

The sick garbled moans they made. Dripping from their mouths as they tried to tell him to stop. It was sickening, it was revolting.

But they didn't stop him from bathing in every last bloody drop. Splashing it all over his handsome face, obscuring those features. Until he was no longer recognizable. His lean frame was dripping wet until it began to stick to his skin.

With only his loins left moist, leaking with the barest hint of bursting pleasure. He stared with an unwavering gaze, holding an unsheathed knife in hand.

Without the help of conscious thought, he brought the blade down and stabbed it into the base, dragging it down and slicing folds into the flesh. Instead of the unbearable pain he expected, he was overcome by an overwhelming wave of lust that drowned him in and under, filling him to the core.

And he laughed, for he was at last, free of the deformities that seperated him from the others. Transformed, capable of resurrection, and rebirth.

**_Reborn._ **

He gasped for breath as the wound between his legs bursted open and pulsated like a

 

Val lurched awake from his sleep, heart racing in his chest. He was afraid, yet he was _laughing._ Sprawled out in his blankets with a warm wetness pooling between his legs. _'Child's blood',_ he thought. He peered down, only to find it to be a wetness of his own.

He looked and listened to the dull silence that awaited him in reality, praying he had finally been given an answer. Then, at last, the static spoke to him. He hesitated. "God...? Is that you?" He heard himself whisper through the darkness.

It answered, and he laughed again, tears welling up in his eyes.

...

"Holy hell...he sliced it in half, didn't he?"

"God knows, if it's a he, that's not the only thing he's missin'. If it's a she, her body's also pretty fucked up. It just... doesn't make any sense..." The worker paused a bit, inspecting the features further. "It's like a fucking tranny on acid."

Cackling laughter erupted from the other man across from him, "Be careful, if this one gets out, the sjw's might start worshiping it." He claimed. "Yeah, I can see that happening. We'd be crucified for oppressing those two retards on tumblr." "I bet they'd burn this whole place to the ground - if they could get permission from their parents."

They laughed some more, then grew quiet again.

"Do you think the guys in the tower are responsible for all this weird shit?"

"I wouldn't doubt it, but if they were - they would've had to screw with it's body or genetics somehow. It's strange. I've never seen anything like it..."

"Whatever - Just give it some clothes - and tighten those braces. I don't want it to rip my throat out when it gets up."

"It might try to rip your throat out, regardless. Based on what we've heard, anyway. If it gets too wild, I'll just give it a shot so it can wire down."

"Man, it's already fucked up enough with that radio signal, I doubt were gonna get any sense out of it while it's all tripped out."

"I doubt we'll get any sense out of it anyways... That bitch in office doesn't give two shits about us, won't care of any casualties. She just wants it's words and breathing body. The effects of the experiments. I bet some of the higher-ups recognize it from those cameras but aren't saying anything."

"Pathetic is all it is, if the guys could barely get anything out of Blake - this one might as well be already dead."

...

Lighting struck above the Cathedral, lighting up the night from behind the man's window. He sat wearily on a bench, scrawling notes into his journal while cupping his bleeding eye socket. Spots of red trickled it's way onto it, seeping into the rich printed paper.

"God," He pleaded as he stood nude on the mountain, "Why couldn't you have chosen one stronger!? Why have you sent me to lead this journey when I know not of it's true purpose?"

At first, the sky answered only with more rain, but soon, a voice indescribable in it's presence boomed into his ears. He had, at last, answered their prayers. And with a slice of his eye, all of their fears had been introduced to him, and him alone.

When he asked again, why he, a once normal man, be gifted with all these responsibilities, he was left with only silence. He then knew that there was a reason in the light, afterall.

The voice said it would lead them to salvation, protection from darkness and the horrific filth of flesh that was the devil. And they would be free of the wretched hell, that was now closing in upon them.

It was a hope they strived for, one they needed.

With that in mind, he stuffed his journal and pen into his robes and lulled himself asleep.

When he awoke the next morning, he was met with the fresh light of the rising sun, and the small orphan girl, whom he had met a few days prior, silently praying at an altar. It was clear she had been crying.

"Child..." He began, careful not to startle her, "What's wrong?" She turned her head a bit, stringy black hair hanging over her pale face. "They don't understand..." Her voice was low and gravelly from her lips, full of sorrow. "I don't understand,"

She tried to wipe the tears from her eyes with a wrinkled hand. Knoth stood to his feet and helped her brush the hair from her face, revealing her pained expression. "You are beautiful." He assured her, "And you will always be, their words won't change that..."

He looked down to admire the strange altar between them, "Only your heart determines beauty, you... do know that, right?" The girl sniffled and nodded, "Y-Yes... but why did this have to happen to me? Why am I different?"

Papa looked down at her and smiled, "Everyone is different in one way or another. And God makes people different to make them special ..." "How do you know it's not a curse, like they say?" She snapped. "Because they are not God." He simply stated. "God creates creatures differently to make them special, not to curse them."

With that, she was at a loss for words. Both were stuck in silence awhile, until Knoth spoke up again. "Come here, dearest...I'll give you a glass of water."

 

\- _knock knock knock_

He heard the noise from back at his quarters. It was panicked, he could hear, a reverberating sound reflecting fear and stress from the person behind those doors.

It must have been news from the bloodline family, he thought. With the special boy whom he offered the job for... His story was heartbreaking, much like Marta's. There was...something wrong in which he could not control. All he wanted was to see if the problem could be fixed by the Lord's name.

And Knoth had indeed asked of it's purpose. Why a poor child be effected by a thing that could change his whole life. Besides his own memories of what he had always told Marta and Laird of their own deformities, a single word fit into his mind.

A word with such a sacred history and background to it and involving powerful devotion to the Lord. One he read of once in a book, learned of it's meaning. For it to be brought back to him at that moment must have been some sort of purpose, he thought.

He pulled open the doors to greet the frightened young woman and her son. "It's been getting worse..." She warned, pointing towards her fair-haired child, "I know God has done him like this for his own reasons but... I'm afraid it won't be solved as naturally as I'd like to pretend..."

The boy's light blue eyes met Papa's. A normal child, or so he seemed to be. "...Are you sure the treatment will help?" He asked, sounding like he was verging on his later-years already, much to the procedure's dismay.

"It should, but it requires much responsibility. You may as well be the one God has fortold - one destined to serve Temple Gate of an important role..." The child grew quiet, and Knoth guided a weary hand to his shoulder. And so it began. And so it _be- And so it-_

 

Papa stared at the two traitors, shivering in anger and fear on the pedestal. Rage flared in his chest at all they've done. They were all corrupt. They were all cowards.

Afraid to do God's will but unhesitant to work for Satan. "The enemy has grown in her foul womb." He began, voice booming throughout the church, "The Lord berated to me; our purpose. The whole reason for Temple Gate's existence has finally arrived ..."

He paused, peering into the two's eyes for any hint of remorse. He saw only fear. "But there was a viper among us. Even before the _whore_ arrived, as you well know ..." His eyes trailed to the altar sitting between the two heretics, he frowned.

"How long has Val betrayed me? How many of you has he turned away from the Lord God almighty, in an abominable love of Satan? They stole away Lynn, and the unborn enemy in her womb... The fiend's father has escaped! She will bare her filthy yield before dawn! We have only these few hours to find her, and kill her to save this paradise from hell everlasting!"

"Where is the woman!? Where did Val take her!?"

 

Val squeezed his eyes shut, voice tearing into his ears as if he was still there, in the church. All those eyes once beaming upon him were gone. The ceremony had finally ended, it seemed.

He was breathing heavily for reasons he did not know. Then, he felt a familiar hand rinse through his hair, and he remembered. He muttered words under his gasps, holding him close and kissing him slightly, and of all his years of learning how to write and speak, she did not know what to say.

But it was too close, too intimate, and not of the familiar sensation, scarred into the back of his mind. And he struggled, for once afraid that it would bring the memory back to life -

 _"Shit, I_   _think he's waking up."_ An unrecognizable voice bellowed from above.

He wondered if it was the father... or maybe the _voice_ ready to reveal his true face from among the ashes - but it was too distinct, too human, and so... so...

He forced open his eyes, vision blotted with black, but seeing two distinct figures looming over him. Their faces were marred by strange masks.

He wondered if he died, but if he had, where was the Black Paradise? Where were his followers? And what were these shapes floating over him? ...Were they demons? Angels? Creatures his mind could barely comprehend? In his drunken state, he could only stare.

The things peered down at him. One waved a hand in his face. "Hey buddy? You with us?" It asked, leaning down to see his face more clearly.

Val's mind fogged with uncertainty. She remembered being stabbed, a man, a man who wore the same type of face ...the rubberish texture under her fingertips as she squeezed -

"What are you...?" She managed through parted lips, "Are you my absent God? Or are you a angel sent to torment me from above?" She expected a clear answer, but the creature only clicked it's tongue and scowled.

"That's something we'll let you find out on your own... but for now, the reason we're here is to figure out who _you_ are." She slowly blinked and peered into the place around them, which now, seemed less dark and more bright.

A row of gleaming white lights decorating a white ceiling and white walls. White... all around them.

 _"What do you remember?"_ The shape cooed in the background, filling her head with an odd buzz. She felt, for once, she needed to answer. The scene around her wavered a bit, but she fought to cling on.

"The smell..." She began deliriously, "Smelt of searing flesh as it burnt into my face... The testament deteriorated with it all, shriveled to ash among it's flames. You... you did see it, didn't you? The village _str- strucken_ with fire and lightning and dust as the morning sun began to rise..."

She paused, awaiting the creature's response, but they said nothing. "His voice called out to me one last time... and I... I..." His rasped voice broke into slow, rugged breaths as he grown unsure of what they'd seen. Were they to be trusted?

He focused on the shapes again, one was jotting words into a notebook, it appeared. Val imagined himself in it's place, head full of static, scribbling rapid thoughts into phrases...

Appearing in the dark of people's doorsteps, telling bits and pieces of the newfound Lord. Encouraging them to join and be free of their lonesome and loss. Just as he was...

The hand waved in front of her face again. "This...'voice' you mentioned," It began, "What did it sound like?"

She smiled ever so slightly, "Powerful... astounding, intimidating, a force to be reckoned with." The two exchanged glances uncomfortably, before one spoke up again.

"Did you see anyone who survived the 'fire'?" Val squinted, thinking long and hard until the familiar image popped into her head. "The father." She claimed, recalling the blurry presence from among the smoke.

"...Do you know his name?" Val paused again, remembering the mother's desperate cries, _"Blake."_

The shapes turned to face each other again, the whites behind their faces interlocking, as if in confrontation.

"He escaped with the child, into his memories. Trapped himself in his mind forever, as not to greet hell's open gates ..." He wasn't strong enough to accept his fate, so he created his own.

The creatures grew silent once more. Had they not known of hell's upbringing, afterall? Had they not heard the sweet song of fire crackling, eating up every inch of Knoth's damned little world?

She wanted to ask, but her thoughts were too muddled, speech long forgotten. Her half-lidded eyes caught a glimpse of a camera pointed directly at her and the creatures.

Val studied it carefully. That was no creature's device ...and neither was the scene in which they dwelled in. She blinked, and looked further at her surroundings. Freshly painted hallways, bright shimmering lights, pure silence haunting every crack and corner ...

This was no Black Paradise - nor hell. It seemed more of a... purgatory.

Had the two beings prisoned her here? Were they toying with her? Playing with one of the last traces of human kind whilst their rein of fire everlasted?

A faint hum was heard, it came from behind the walls. It stripped her from her thoughts and her eyes snapped back to the things in front of her. They appeared to have run out of questions, talking amongst themselves, as if she wasn't even there.

He tested the binds that locked his arms to his sides, it was all straps - cheap leather wrap that stuck to his skin, but so tight to cause the tips of his fingers go numb. Those things somehow knew how to use it... embarassing, even for them, to think such a thing could stand a chance ...

"How do we know it's not just fucking with us?" He heard one stammer, "It could just be ramblin' random junk because of those damn drugs."

"Nah, that'd be too coincidental. It must've been under the wave's influence."

"I bet it still is ..."

Val's mind wandered to the sound again, pictures morphing of what could be the face hidden beneath those whispers. Beneath the haunting silence. He must have been urging her to come closer, assuring her that he was of and in his presence.

The binds snapped apart with a flick of his wrists. And he was free, lurching to his feet, welcoming the soothing song in open arms... He stumbled towards a set of doors, clean and white... in which he'd never seen...

He felt odd clothes dangle from his wrists and ankles. One of his legs was wrapped in more binds, he found, and each step with it rung with even more agony. One of the creatures grabbed his arm, but he merely twisted it away, snapping it backwards.

He only heard the being fall to the floor and let out a blood-curling scream, before the rest of the world blurred out of focus. His eyes only eager to see what layed behind those doors,

and he did.

He saw _humans,_ many of them, in lab coats and uniforms. Humans that were _alive,_ like him. Like the strange beings who delivered him there. Alive. How did they survive the fire?

He wanted to ask, but his tongue was at a loss for words.

There was technology he had never seen in all of his life, devices that had a use he did not know. There were cameras and paper and television and...

They all stared back at him, awaiting an action, or maybe a word to slip from his lips. But he had none. Only a thousand questions that ran through his mind in that very moment.

But then he heard the noise again, in one of the rooms among them. _They were calling for her, luring her close..._ Without the help of conscious thought, he scrambled towards the loudest one, busting it open and staring at what awaited him inside.

He saw a monitor. One with a screen, and a muddled image cast upon it. The familiar whirring grew louder, and she found her eyes glued to the crackling static. She watched as the noise overlapped in her ears, growing stronger and ringing painfully in her head, but still, she listened -

The creatures tackled him to the floor, stabbing him again with an alien-like device, puncturing deep into his skin as he thrashed around wildly, craving to hear the rest of what the voice was saying.

The sick torture the demons had in store for him was nothing compared to the reality of meeting _him._ He wanted to _feel_ him, he wanted to _taste_ him, he wanted to become one with ...

Val jerked an arm free from them, twisting into a kneeling position before slamming his fists into whatever held him down. He was so close, answers of all existence right before his reach ... and these _...mongrels_ had the gall to keep it from him.

The thought served as a painful reminder, it made him crumble with rage, and he let out a shriek that seemed to shake the entire room. "You can't hide it from me," He cried, as they stabbed him more, "You can't hide, you can't hide. It will find you wherever you are."

Stings of pain erupted from his body as he struggled more, he found blood splatter where they'd stabbed too deep. "It's in your skin, it's in our skin. You can't get it out, you never will ..."

His children flashed before his eyes, as if they were gathering around him again, they were all - He desperately shook off the memory, forcing his mind to focus back on the present.

They bound his wrists behind his back, slamming him back to the floor. He could feel himself slipping, like he had before, only now, he found himself fantasizing of what they'd do to him while he did...

He wondered if they saved him for that reason, just like they saved all those other humans from the fire. Were they planning to use them only as vessels to feed their hunger? ... He wondered if they were like him. If they too, heard the whispers and were driven by a relentless appetite.

... He remembered reading them a book, all 40 of them, as they listened and laughed... All of their worries forgotten in the midst of pure happiness. He loved them, he missed them.

Val gazed absently at the creatures looming above him, holding him down, their voices grew distant and fuzzy. A tear rolled down his cheek.

 

He can't get it out. He  _never_ will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (-Knoth's speech in the middle of the chapter is quoted from one of his unused dialogues, for those who don't know-)
> 
> Much like Outlast 2 itself, I'd like to leave most of this fic up to the reader's interpretation. I just love the thought of there being "more between the lines", and this game portrays that perfectly.  
> I had alot of fun trying to sculpt out the characters and events in this chapter. Especially when I was able to screw with all of your emotions   
> *sadistic laughter*  
> There will be more coming soon~
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading, and don't be afraid to comment and share!^^


	5. A Start to a New Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm finally back!  
> It took awhile for me to write this out and be a video game addict at the same time lol
> 
> I wanted to tag on a bit more of what the heretics believed in for this chapter, since I feel like they're the most interesting factions in Outlast 2.
> 
> I feel like if any of them are alive post-game, they would crave to hear the "disembodied voice" from the radio tower, since their actions obviously emote from the strange "love" and "freedom" The voice makes them feel.
> 
> Many of them seemed to suffer from the same guilt Val felt when he helped sacrifice all of the children.  
> Which was ultimately the reason all of them ended up losing their minds and putting their faith into this "voice in the sky" to mask the said guilt with sin and debauchery.
> 
> I had alot of fun writing the Murkoff part of this chapter as well. Val seeing all the workers more as demons than humans is all too fitting because of how nasty and evil they all are.
> 
> The mask idea came from the soldiers I saw in the first outlast. I thought if they would be in a clorinetined area with the new infected patients, they would be protected to not transmit disease. (Disregarding the patients, themselves - of course)
> 
> Anyways, thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoy the chapter!

"It is what God wants," He had said.

"Don't worry... for once it is all over, each of you shall be soldiers in God's army."

But how did he know for sure? ... Each thrust of the knife across their necks had been hard enough a burden to bear. Their innocent, agony-filled eyes would meet his, frantic with pain and betrayal.

He knew better than to let them see his own, he wore a blank expression to mask the guilt welling up in his chest. It sickened him. It haunted him.

And he remembered every splatter of blood seeping into his robes. Every gurgle and cry that escaped them before the lights left their eyes. But it needed to be done... that was what Papa had told him.

Again, the prophet stroked his cheek and told him everything would be alright. That it was what god wanted. He gathered everyone down to the river, where they all began to sing in chorus despite what they had done. All except for one.

He could only watch as the fire grew on the pyre, smoke whisping into the sky as if it were message to God in and of itself. Then it was over.

...or so he thought.

,,,,,

"Yeah, 'just busted out in the middle of it's high. Everyone got to see it freak out in the middle of the plaza - Not that it hasn't happened before - but still. It shows how much energy it has from that tower."

"Broke Ll'opin's arm too, didn't it?"

"Yep, must've been _real_ desperate for noise..."

Val roused at the sound of the creatures conversing above him. He watched their masks dangle flaccidly on their faces.

"Fred left the fucking TV on again. I swear, that dumbass never takes any of this seriously."

"The signal must've involved static, I bet. Why else would it be attracted to something we could barely hear?"

"It's about time we found out."

Val's serene gaze only stared as the man began to wind metal wire around her arms to keep her restrained. She could only barely make out a pair of white eyes behind the black.

They seemed to take notice of her by their own curious nature. The look was all too familiar. And soon she found herself wondering if they could be human afterall.

But soon the features dissapeared as he plucked a familiar red notebook from a bed nearby. He flipped through it's contents, reading and rereading the writing scribbled into the pages.

"Says it has a different perspective on what happened during the 'explosion'. ...Something to do with fire and lighting instead of just smoke and fog like the rest."

She listened carefully to his words.

"Mentions the signal as some divine force or something, says it certainly encountered Blake and called him "the father." I guess they're going back to him to see if he still remembers what happened."

"Heh, I'll ask them how well that turned out."

Val's eyes stalked each movement of the two, tracking each human-like jerk of their muscles beneath their robes. What they were was beyond his recognition, they appeared to be puppets of a much greater force, but he couldn't be sure.

Not every mystery needed to be solved, afterall.

"When do you think the experiments should start?"

"Meh, it could start today for all I know. Just so we can get it over with and focus on more important projects."

Then the beings suddenly stood to their feet, collected their papers and left the room. The door wafted shut behind them, leaving Val to his own mind-numbing silence.

It was then he remembered what it felt like to feel truely alone.

...

Pure darkness was all any eyes could see. The place smelt horrid, a stench full of dust and fresh death with every lustful breath.

Each body was just another sorry soul freed from their relentless nightmares, a sacrificed not to be mourned, but celebrated. Forgiven.

And there, Val roamed the halls of her mansion. Naked, craving every whisper that seeped into her ears from above. He fueled her, fed her hunger, assured her greater than Papa ever could.

Satisfying like food to the starved, sex to a virgin, warmth from the rising sun.

Bodies hung at entrances and into halls; a welcome to Knoth's 'children' of their fates if they were to tread nearby. And yes, they waited. They waited eagerly for them to come.

Bathed in their sea of serenity, never drowning in guilt or sadness - regardless of what nightmares plagued their mind like the sickness of the Scalled.

Val would come, look them straight in the eyes, and smile with those strangely feminine lips. He would take all their pain away. He always did...

Death lingered in the air, hot and moist throughout the tunnels. Their leader breathed deep, licked his lips and glossed his face with earth.

Those same eyes that once only skimmed left and right on the gospels during meetings. Lips that were once quiet and soothing behind Knoth's booming presence in the church. But now, no more.

Only they knew who he truely was. The strange charm of his appearance and soothingness at the act of slaughter. The way his hooks dangled freely from the ceilings, some dripping with blood or punctured through one's ribs or gums.

He wrote of his beliefs in a gospel of his own, for the end wasn't to crinkle and shrivel away, but rather, a start to a new beginning. Where they would all be embraced by the fire and hell, joining to celebrate within, instead of burning to crisps like the unbelievers.

We would be mortal, yet immortal. Able to be mutilated and wretched and butchered, but also capable of resurrection and rebirth.

Reborn.

...

Tears filled his eyes as the aching memories continued to conquer his last bits of faith.

The halls were so quiet now. So empty. He half expected one of his children to appear outside the doorway, or maybe a specter, to torment him further for what he had done.

Yet the memories were tormenting enough, each one worse than the other as they replayed over and over in his mind. His chest quenched with guilt and lonesome as he twisted uncomfortably in his blankets.

It was what God wanted, was it not?

,,,,,,

 

Minutes ticked by, maybe hours. Val didn't know. The sun was locked far away, if not destroyed by the power of the storm she witnessed. If the creatures' rein of fire persisted outside the walls, she could not hear even a lick of it's flames.

She could only peer into the empty darkness, listening to her heart thump and breath catch in her throat as the seconds passed.

It strangely reminded her of when she stalked the waters of her home. Only the silence was a rarity, never once did the voice leave her to wander alone. It always came back. ...But now, it seemed he was truely gone.

But Val remembered how the voice rang out before. She remembered how close he was then, she just... needed to search for him. Hear him call for her. Guide her back to her true purpose. Like he had when the mother was in danger.

And as soon as those demons gave her a chance, she would. But for now, she could only wait.

Wait, as the metal binds dug deeper and deeper into her skin. Wait, while she swore she could see figures stumble through the darkness of the room. Wait, as she heard distant screaming noises echo behind the walls.

She began to doubt her perception, untrusting of her own mind and surroundings. Fists clenching and unclenching, carressing the rusted railing underneathe. Her heart pounded mercilessly in her chest, as she saw a light pop on outside the room.

She saw shadows step into the light, they seemed to be talking to one another. Val tried to make out the new voices, but muffled phrases were all he heard.

"I can't believe there's only a handful of these psychos, what happened to the rest?"

"Dead, if not dying by the time they got up here. Many of e'm got nasty diseases, it's better if they're seperated from the others..."

"Shit, well who's in here?" Val heard the doornob click.

"One of the strongest ones, we'll have to be a bit careful getting it out. But nothing we can't handle - I've seen worse patients, anyhow." The door swung open and bursted the room with yellow light. It made Val's eyes sting, but he could still make out the few silluettes in the doorway.

"Let's get this over with,"


	6. Foreign Land

They had nabbed her from the restraints, stealing her away from the confinement only to force her into another. Lights gleamed throughout the hall, noises and beeps sounding from each room among, but none recognizable.

Val could barely comprehend the foreign place. She wasn't dead yet - not yet, which meant everything she saw was, somehow, real.

But never in her life had she seen anything so... clean.

White stone walls that were cut neatly into fine, square pieces. Gleaming lights that burnt silluettes into her eyes. And most especially, the sweet scent of paper consuming the place. It was no surprise, for the mansion was  _filled_ with it.

And Knoth told her it was a rarity? He knew not more than she did.

"Where are you bringing me...?" She murmured as the people dragged her down the hall, though she doubted any of them would answer.

They didn't, only forcing her arms behind her back and cuffing her hands with wire.

"At least it's got an idea of what's going on." It spoke, with a voice deep enough to startle her. She couldn't get a good look at him before he shoved her further down the hall.

There were so many creatures surrounding them. Some wore the same white garb the other strange humans did before, dirty masks obscuring their faces. But most were cloaked in black, with metallic helmets and armor donned as if they were part of a demonic army.

_Maybe they want her to be another-_

His body jolted forth when yet another thing latched onto his shoulders. Though, he saw the arm was  _bare_ this time. It was surprisingly human-like. But the skin was dark - too dark; almost coal black, as if it had been burnt beyond recognition.

Val saw the veins popping beneath the flesh, blending with the strange tribal-like paintings stained into the surface. It winded up past the sleeves, further up the body.

It was unlike anything he had ever seen.

"Hey, Miliqúe, do you really think you should break the dress code  _here_ of all places?" Someone griped beside her.

"Aw, c'mon have some generousity... You know this one hasn't seen any humans she's used to for awhile. 'Probably thinks we're all aliens or something. Why not spare a look?" He cocked his head to face her, a bike helmet obscuring his face, "...Aint I right?"

She wanted to see what features could lay under the mask, whether it be hideous or divine... But all she could see was a mirror reflecting herself. She stared into it, as if in a trance.

"Whatcha tryin' to look at, Val-entine?" The soldier teased, the bass in his throat echoing in Val's own. ...Did he know that was her name?

What kind of demon could he be?...

Before he could ask, the beast yanked him upright with a hand, and lifted the other to slither across his exposed neck. "Ah, this one's a keeper." He purred seductively, relishing the softness of the silk-smooth skin, "Too bad they had to fuck it's head up in order for it to get here."

"Such a shame..." Another crooned with a click of his tongue.

Val could only stare at each of them, at a loss for words.

If she had been anymore of herself, and not dazed, standing within the tribe of monsters - she would have laughed. The sheer irony that  _she_  was the one being hit on by the strangers.

...And they, too, thought she was mad, she knew. As expected from ones who hadn't witnessed the voice's power in all it's mind-melting glory.

They were blinded by their own fiendish madness, yet weren't even aware...

They led him to another set of doors, busting it open, and revealing more unique machinery hidden behind the walls. It was all alien to him. They yanked him towards a particularly strange one with a circular globe and tubes decorating the outside.

Val eyed it descreetly, he could only imagine what it could possibly be used for. A closer look at it revealed a ghastly black ink that obscured its insides.

"See that?" The man pointed at the machine with emphasis, "That's the thing that used to power this whole damn facility. Take a good, long look."

"When did that guy come in here and ruin all this? Was it a month ago?"

"Three months. Time flies by when shit hits the fan."

The foreign human brushed his pale fingers across Val's cheek once more, "Ah, I could only imagine what this one would do if we threw it in there. If only these still worked, that'd be a treat."

He could already see it in his mind. The slippery black wire being forced down his gullet, the substance rolling down his throat, eyes rolling back -

The thought should have been arousing to him. He should have felt something, at least. But inevitably, he felt nothing. And deep down, he wondered if he would ever feel the sweet, lustful hunger ever again.

"Heh, looks like it knows." The beast commented, his pearl-white teeth clashing with his rough dark skin. "You must miss your old life back in the country, huh Val?"

At long last, the blond's eyes met his. An eerie silence hung in the air. "Oh, so you  _do_ know what I'm talking about," The man continued, studying the patient's pretty features. "I was about to think you didn't know english... haha, some of your comrads must've forgotten how."

He leaned on a pole, shifting his visor away from his dark brown eyes.

"Were there any...  _monsters_  lurkin' in Temple Gate?" He questioned, watching her eyes glaze his freshly revealed face, "Or any... "New Ezekiel" tellin' you to murder those poor children...?"

Val knew the demons knew more than they let on, but it didn't strike him any less when those words left the man's lips. The fury she felt... who was he to remind her of what she had pathetically done?

And how did he know...

He was so very much human, regardless of how much different she looked compared to him. The eyes she didn't know he had were so dark and devoid of color. His lips so pink and his hair so twisted. ...He could only be another survivor from a foreign land.

"You don't talk much." The man stated with a hand to his chin, "Don'tcha have anything to say?"

Val was hesitant, eyes merely snapping between the odd man and the background tediously, "...How do you know about us...?" Was the first question that slipped from her mind.

They were secluded, hundreds of miles away from civilization in the mountains...

... _unless Knoth lied about that too._

"Ah, that's understandable for someone who lived in the middle of nowhere..." The man trailed, playing with an unfamiliar metallic object in his hands.

"How do you know about the town? And the children?" Val suddenly snapped, despite her strangled voice, having a sudden urge to learn who these "monsters" truely were.

"That's a long story neither you or your friends could understand," The man continued, bringing a small device to meet her gaze, "...unless you know what this is, of course."

A camera, she knew it right off. One that looked nearly identical to the father's. Cracks spider-webbed across it's frame, blood caked the screen.

It had to be his...but if it was... then...

"Did... you capture the father, too?" She asked hesitantly. He was the  _seed,_  the fated end to their world's beginning. Perhaps he was the reason the armegeddon was halted right as it began. Unless the child had something to do with it.

"Who? Langermann? Meh, he's just another one of you, for now. ...Let's just say he's like a dish towel; we couldn't squeeze enough... water outta him..."

The human sighed irritably, fixing his visor back to his face, "Somehow, even you crazy bastards have more sense than him. That really makes me wonder..."

The soldier paused absently, eyes glazing the broken machinery and rusted walls.

"Say," He cocked an eyebrow towards his friend, "How about we pay the guy a visit before the captain shows up?"

A worker checked his watch a moment and rolled his eyes, "The boss said she'd come at 9:14" He watched as his comrad smiled gleefully and grab the patient's binded wrists. "Your gonna get yourself killed doing junk like this..." He muttered in disbelief as he saw them walk down another wing.

Again, they dragged her down the seemingly endless halls. The lights continued to shine all around them...until suddenly, they didn't.

The white suddenly grew dim and the walls began to crack as they walked further. Then, as if a miracle had happened, she saw him.

He was strapped to a chair, as Val was before. He was shaking, his eyes were bugged, his face was contracted and he was grinding his teeth in terror. But he had, too, survived the flames.

... _Perhaps they truely were meant to be after all this time..._

His dull brown eyes locked on hers, and just like that, all else seemed to vanish into darkness. The father's jaw quivered, then dropped, knowing all too well who she was.

_"What have you done to Lynn!?"_ He had screamed at her in her mansion, " _Where is she!?"_

She smiled at him then, so she smiled at him now.

Then the man began to visably panic, twisting in the wire around his wrists in a helpless attempt to be freed. He was just as clueless as she remembered him.

"Wohoho! Look at him go! Looks like they do really know each other..." She heard the foreign human chime from the doorway.

The blond's eerie smile faded as her many questions plagued her mind. "What happened to the child?" She asked, the long-lost infant should have survived as well. If she didn't, that could only mean... she had  _failed._

Blake's eyes flickered to the man beside her, gazing at the camera he held in his hands. "They...they have her...no..." He mumbled, pointing to the device dazily, "They won't give her back...Jessica... I..."

His head sunk to the floor, head quivering as he choked on quiet sobs. He rose moments later to reveal sudden rage. "You motherfuckers...! You took her, you - you're the reason she's dead!"

Val only stared down at him, unfazed. A familiar guilt welled in his chest, but he couldn't remember how to express it.

"For the last time, there is no child." The soldier stated irritably. "You've both have just been tripping balls this whole time, but you're too stupid to see it."

He face-palmed, nudging his friend in the shoulder, "They can't even believe it when I directly tell them, how insane is that?" He cackled dryly.

But she saw it. She saw it with her own eyes. The pregnancy, the screaming, the bleeding sky, the storm... There was no other explaination. It had to be real. If anything, these humans were the ones out of their minds.

"But I saw it..." Val claimed as the distant memories flickered in her head, "I saw it."

"Yeah, whatever, we better take you back to the bitch..." The worker muttered, snatching the patient's restricted wrists before he could continue.

"Wait...!" Blake choked, looking up with bloodshot eyes. The human paused. "After all that hell... why did you try to kill me?" The question was directed at Val, it appeared.

"If I was so damn important, if I was the 'father,' why the fuck did you waste your time... trying to kill me?"

To that, he didn't have an answer.

"Because you're a god damn lunatic, that's why." The foreign human blurted out, slamming the battered door shut. "And that's why you're here to stay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it would be interesting to include a black character in this chapter because God knows how diverse Outlast is racially lol
> 
> I know it's important not to be "diverse for the sake of being diverse"  
>  (like many movies and video games are today, sadly) so I can respect the Outlast games for not giving a damn about it. Race has nothing to do with horror, afterall.
> 
> Plus, Val's idea of the "storm" would have warped the idea of there being other races, as hinted in the story.
> 
> And for those with attention to detail, you would have noticed Val doesn't see Blake's camcorder as the child, whilst Blake does.
> 
> Blake is still suffering from the effects of the radio signals, but Val isn't as much because he was put in a sedative state, which wore off the tower's side effects for awhile.
> 
> I feel like Murkoff would've wanted to study their descent into madness more than a slow return to sanity. 
> 
> It would make sense if the surviving cultists slowly became more sane overtime since they're finally seperated from the radio signal.   
> That's the idea I wanted to explore with Val because of how deranged he is compared to his past self.
> 
> Thanks to those who've read this far! This story has definetly took alot of time to write, but I still have plenty of ideas on how this could go.
> 
> Don't be afraid to bookmark and comment!


	7. Papa Always Liked Me Best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any of you haven't checked Marta/Val's wiki in the past few months, I highly reccomend checking it now.   
> The things that were added to the trivia page recently genuinely surprised me and inspired me to write this chapter. 
> 
> Basically, it reveals Val's cut death scene (with mostly the voice lines of Marta shouting "Shut up!" and "Stop laughing! to someone (supposably Val) which sounds suspiciously like her choking them to death if you put both of the audios together.
> 
> It's definetly something I can imagine happening in game. Also with Blake's unused audio of "Val died laughing," It would be so fitting and climatic if it didn't happen so soon, and that's probably why it was removed.
> 
> Seriously, check it out.
> 
> This is a pretty short chapter, but it definetly reminds me of how I fell into this crazy fandom in the first place.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

The suspicious young woman saundered towards the former cultist. A familiar red notebook was clutched between her fingers, nails painted white.

She wore a simple grey t-shirt under a dark suit jacket with matching slacks and high heels. Her brown hair was cut short and slicked back behind her ears. Deep red lip stick was noticably glossed upon her lips.

If she was afraid of the saneless patient, she refused to show it.

Her expression was dull and emotionless, tracking each movement of the odd blond man. Unamused eyes flickering from his strange stare to the newly made scars that decorated his stomach.

The woman reached out a delicate hand to grasp his jaw and tilt it side to side. "Interesting..." She muttered as she studied the unique features.

Val bared his teeth despite the metal between them. Although he was captivated by the myseterious female, he knew she was not one he could trust.

"Bizzare, I'll say that." She commented, "But definetly not a coincidence, that's for sure." She turned to face the big-nosed man sitting across from her, "The real question is how and why did it happen. It's not usual to see harmones impacted like this."

"We are just as clueless as you are." The man stated as his eyes skimmed more documents, "Could just be a birth defect, y'know. It wouldn't surprise me after all we've seen. You think this one's screwed up? Just look at this wicked old hag the crew brought back." He pointed towards a table in the corner that was draped by a bloody white sheet.

The woman scoffed bitterly, releasing her grip on the subdued victim and approached the lax form on the operating table. She almost hesitated stripping away the sheets to see what lay underneathe.

What she saw was a vaguely recognizable body laying limp upon the dull white blankets. Dead, as expected. But the limbs were so long, the skin was so pale... a chalky grey beggining to become a lifeless blue.

Wiry black hair dripping over it's face and winding past her shoulders... Val gazed silently as she realized in awe.

"Ah," The buisness woman purred, "This one must've been poisoned, somehow." Her eyes shamelessly crept over the grotesque details. Mentally noting the symptoms.

"Aren't they all?" The big-nosed man muttered from his seat, "Especially those new ones the crew found to the north of town, right?"

"Perhaps..." The lady answered.

Silence took over the room as she scribbled cursive words into her notebook.

"Hey," The officer suddenly piped, the woman's eyes peered up, "Why does he keep zoning out like that?" Her eyes flicked to the patient behind her, noticing his unblinking stare glued to the floor.

She scoffed, expecting him to ask something much more important:

"Side effects of being out of the tower's signal for so long. It's been a month, so far. None of them were never meant to leave town after it was turned on. But regardless, we have too much on our plate as it is."

"You mean like Jane Doe?" He blurted out, "With the seizures? And that unexpected death?"

The woman was quiet a moment, a glare present in her brow, "...Not... exactly." Was all she said.

There was no response, so she decided a change of subject was required.

"Me and the crew were planning to fry him in a few days if there's no reason to keep him alive. Just so we can move on and be done with this mess once and for all."

Thankfully, the unsuspecting worker took no notice of it, "What? Aren't you curious to see what he does if he can come back to his senses?"

"I'm more concerned that he will cause our cover to be blown. We don't need any more evidence of Temple Gate, there's no point to keep this nutcase alive," She paused, "...unless you want to see him get torn apart by the other patients instead, of course."

"Of course not - but some risks are worth taking." The man claimed with a sneer, " We could learn a few things, plan new experiments, you never know."

"Hm. We'll have to see." She spoke after a short thought.

"First, though, we need to get rid of the corpses. Because there's plenty of 'em..."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The mines were breaking - crumbling, just as Val remembered it. The rocks were falling, the air was getting heavier and heavier and harder to breathe. He heard the garbled noises, the voices of his children shrieking throughout the caves. Calling for him...

He wanted to follow them, chase them, knowing they would guide him back to his true purpose. ...But someone stood in his way

...The executioner.

A tall bloodied pickaxe was vice-gripped in her pale hands. Her yellowed teeth were bared, taking long strangled breaths in and out. She was standing in a heap of mutilated corpses - And Val knew she was the one responsible.

"Strange... pale fruit..." He murmured, watching absently as Marta's head cocked to face him. "You're going... to  _love_ me..."

The heretic began to laugh distantly, deeply knowing what was inevitably to come. They had finally reunited again, proving that Knoth's cowardice was indeed true.

Marta only stared at him, baffled. "Stop..." She croaked, the weapon slipping from her trembling hands, "Stop laughing!" But Val couldn't help it. He couldn't stop himself. He began to laugh hysterically - the deep husky chuckle escaping him as if he were drunk.

Even as those pale fingers closed around his neck, he refused to let silence overtake him.

"Papa always liked me best, papa always liked me best-" He chanted, and the fingers squeezed, "-Shut your filthy... Shut your filthy mouth!" The lady screamed.

"Papa always liked me best, papa always liked me best!" He tried to laugh again, but it came out choked and haggard.

"Papa always liked me best," his voice cracked again, he sputtered:

"Papa - papa always liked me best-"

" _Papa always li-"_

"Shut up!" Marta suddenly screeched, "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"

Val hacked out, trying to mock her further with more laughter, but it only came out as pained groans and hacks. He relished the feeling of blackness seeping into the corners of his eyes.

He could have sworn his neck had snapped by the sheer force of it. He could imagine Marta's fulfilled form rising both in victory and in sorrow.

Bellowing in pain and joy before she realized, in horror, that the child was still alive, and their victory had not yet been blessed upon them.

He could have sworn the storm was a proud welcome from hell... his ressurection, a second chance perhaps? But... could it be true that...

He imagined the same flickering monitor from before, static crackling just beyond his reach. The noise he craved... but something was wrong. It was blurred, hardly audible - like the voices of his children.

Marta, being so devout, so powerful and determined in her faith; could she have spared him, afterall?

Her final objective was to kill him, and yet... she failed.

_She_   _failed._

His eye twiched as he came back to reality, once again. Or was it a reality? How could he be sure? He saw a barred window on one of the walls. Light shone through the cracks, but not at all as rushing or piercing as fire would be.

Val needed to know, needed answers to the things he could barely comprehend. When she was able to use her arms without restriction, she realized, in awe, that she was free of restraints for the first time in days.

She used the new burst of energy to leap to her feet, finding herself dressed in a stitched, colorless uniform and brown pants. Her legs were aching and numb from immobility, but she managed enough strength to stumble towards the window.

Her eyes were wide and hopeful for what could lay outside. So sick of seeing the same greys and whites for weeks on end.

Another eerie smile crept onto her face once she saw what lay beyond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, pretty short chapter.  
> Though I'm glad Red Barrels didn't add this death scene in the game, it makes so much sense it hurts.
> 
> Anyways, thank you all so much for reading. I really appreciate it.   
> Don't be afraid to give feedback if you can.


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